


[ b l e e d . ]

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: (Very mild), (like a HUGE ASSHOLE), Angry Sex, Angst, Bottom Jensen, Hurt Jensen, Hurt/Comfort, Jared Being an Asshole, M/M, Rough Sex, Top Jared, mild dubcon, mockumentary au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:09:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically, he doesn’t even need to be here. The Dean scenes are finished for the day, and he’s been dismissed, but he knows for a fact that Jared will be waiting for him, lingering a few extra minutes in his trailer, and it’s been days. He hates that he needs this, that it’s become such an ingrained habit for him, but it doesn’t change the fact that the need is there. He’s got an itch, and he’s far past the point of being too proud to scratch it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[ b l e e d . ]

**Author's Note:**

> Mockumentary AU- in which Jared's a slightly egotistical dick, Jensen does tai chi, and the two of them aren't really friends at all.
> 
> This got a little bit out of control and more upsetting than intended, so... sorrynotsorry?

Jensen’s pretty sure that everyone on set knows exactly what’s going on- knows where the bruises and bite marks come from, know why he and Jared never really make eye contact outside a scene- but it doesn’t stop him from making sure the coast is clear before he sneaks out of his trailer. He’ll be damned if he’s caught in the act. He won’t give Jared that kind of satisfaction; it’s too easy to imagine the way he’d laugh when he found out.

It’s quiet, nearing the end of the day for filming. Technically, he doesn’t even need to be here. The Dean scenes are finished for the day, and he’s been dismissed, but he knows for a fact that Jared will be waiting for him, lingering a few extra minutes in his trailer, and it’s been days. He hates that he needs this, that it’s become such an ingrained habit for him, but it doesn’t change the fact that the need is there. He’s got an itch, and he’s far past the point of being too proud to scratch it.

Jared’s trailer is, thankfully, quiet, and there aren’t any crew members hanging around to see him as he reaches up to the door handle. He doesn’t bother to knock, and it’s unlocked when he turns it.

Jared is, as expected, lounging inside. He’s settled back on a couch, a damn hand mirror beside him- Jensen’s never going to understand the weird fixation the man has- and takes a good, long moment to admire himself before bothering to look up, eyebrows slightly raised in a mockery of surprise. “Jensen. Thought you were done for the day.”

There’s a taunt in the words, because this is how it always goes. They play their game, dance through the little back-and-forth that comes with this type of relationship. Jensen won’t admit to himself that he’s almost come to enjoy it.

“Thought I’d drop by to make sure you hadn’t gone crazy staring at your own face all day.” He kicks off his shoes in a practised motion. There’s a routine to this, after all, and he knows how to play his part. “So do I need to call Bob and tell him we need a new Sam, or are we graced with your obnoxious presence for another day?”

“Lucky for you, I’m still here.” Jared smiles slowly, sits up a little more, legs spread in an easy sprawl. “Don’t know what you’d do without me around, Jenny.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jensen doesn’t hesitate to move forwards, though, and he’s already going for the buttons on his- Dean’s- shirt. He hasn’t even bothered to stop long enough to change out of his wardrobe yet. “This would be a whole lot easier if you knew how to shut up.”

“It’d be a whole lot more fun if you didn’t have such a fuckin’ stick up your ass.” Jared’s grin widens. “But I guess taking it up the ass is what you do best, isn’t it?”

Jensen clenches his jaw. Shrugs his shirt off and lets it land in a pile at his feet. “We doin’ this or not, Padalecki?”

“Aw, I thought we were on a first-name basis, Ackles.” But Jared stands, takes a moment to brush off the front of his shirt. There’s nothing on it, and Jensen’s pretty sure he’s just doing it to be a prick. “Pants off, on the bed. You know what to do, sweetheart.”

The pet name sounds condescending in Jared’s mouth but Jensen bites his tongue. The faster they get this over with, the faster he can go home and pretend he doesn’t hate himself enough that this is the best he can do. That he _needs_ this, on some fundamental level. 

All he can really cling to at this point is the knowledge that Jared doesn’t care why he’s here. 

His t-shirt comes off easy, joining the button-up on the floor, and his socks and jeans go next. The boxer-briefs are last, and he’s just kicking them off when he reaches the bed. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look at Jared as he gets up onto it. Gets on his elbows and knees and arches his back, beyond the point of shame. He knows how to get what he wants, and that’s all the control he needs right now.

He can hear Jared moving around behind him, humming to himself as he, presumably, gets himself ready. Jensen knows for a fact that he could get undressed and the lube on his fingers in a matter of seconds, but when he’s feeling like more of a dick than usual, he tends to take his time.

“You look awfully pretty like that, y’know.” Jared’s moving closer, finally, and Jensen hears the click of the bottle of lube opening. “Bent over for me. Too bad we don’t get any shots like this on the show, huh?”

It’s not the first time Jared’s made similar comments, so Jensen ignores it. Dean’s a tender spot in his chest, a constant presence in the back of his mind, but he’s far away from all this. Jensen focuses, instead, on the way he can see the other man approaching in the mirror he’s got mounted besides his damn bed. 

“Damn shame.” Jensen doesn’t flinch when Jared’s hand smooths down the curve of his spine, up over his ass. “But I guess it’s just my luck, right? Getting to keep a whore like you all to myself.”

“What, worried no one else will take you?” Jensen can’t help but retort, though he doesn’t move. “Can’t find anyone who’ll actually put up with your bullshit?”

“You do, don’t you?” Jared huffs, and sidles up behind him on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. “An easy fuck is better than a hard one.”

Jensen supposes he has a point, but doesn’t let himself think about it too hard. Their arrangement is beyond strange, but it works, and it works because he doesn’t try to analyze it. Doesn’t worry about why he keeps coming back no matter what Jared does to him, no matter how much they fight with each other. It’s something he doesn’t think he has the stomach to understand.

Jared must take his lack of a response as compliance, because there’s a lubed fingertip at his rim a moment later, pressing inside without hesitation. He bites his lip rather than hiss at the slight burn, knows it’d only egg Jared on more. If this relationship has done anything for him, it’s taught him more than probably anyone else in the world knows about Jared Padalecki.

“Just like a fuckin’ virgin all over again.” Jared snorts. “Hard to believe, someone like you. Never give me a straight answer when I ask if anyone else gets this like I do.”

This, too, is a familiar topic. Jensen doesn’t respond because he doesn’t think Jared’s going to believe him either way, but there’s no one else he could go to for this. Even now, he’s not sure exactly how this started between them, but doing it with anyone else- even the idea is unfathomable. 

“Misha? Maybe Mark?” Sharp teeth pressing into his skin, his hip, and Jensen bites his lip hard enough to taste blood. “Or do you go for the higher-ups? Make sure they do what you want with Dean? Carver, Singer?”

That succeeds in making Jensen shudder, and he refrains from pointing out that if he had that kind of influence, then things would have been a hell of a lot different the last couple seasons. He’s pretty sure Jared knows it, too. “How ‘bout you stop running your mouth and get on with it already?”

“Desperate, huh? Been too long?” Jared coos, and another finger works its way in without preamble or warning. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna get what you need soon enough.”

Jensen has a sneaking suspicion that his definition of “soon enough” is not the same as Jared’s.

He glances up, intent on offering some kind of retort, but he catches his own eye in the mirror, and no matter how many times they’ve done this here, it still throws him for a moment. “What is it with you and all the fucking mirrors?” he mutters, mostly to himself.

Jared hears him, anyways. “What, you don’t like it?” His hand catches Jensen’s jaw, forces him to look up. It makes for an interesting pictures; on his knees, Jared bent over him, still mostly clothed. “Just more of me for you to look at, slut.”

Jensen jerks his chin out of Jared’s hold with a low growl, but it turns into a choked-off moan as the fingers inside him twist, drag hard over his prostate. It’s possibly the one thing he hates most about this; the position of control it puts Jared in. He knows there’s no other way for it to be, though, so he’s learned to get over it.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like that.” Jared’s back to focusing on the task at hand, apparently, as he goes to work scissoring Jensen open, hard and fast. A third finger’s thrown into the fray, but Jensen barely notices, determined to stay as quiet as possible for as long as he can. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. Don’t have to be empty much longer.”

As promised, it’s only another minute or two before Jared’s pulling his fingers out, and the blunt head of his cock is taking their place. There’s no check-in, no hesitation; he’s pushing inside immediately, groans with it. Jensen can’t help the hitch in his breath, and he arches up, pressed back into it. When he feels the lightest scrape of denim against his skin, the cold of a metal zipper, he knows Jared’s bottomed out, lets himself take a deep breath.

“There we go.” Jared sounds breathless, and Jensen feels him lean down a little bit, teeth skimming along the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Missed fucking you, Jenny. What’s it been? Two days? Three?”

It’s been three, but Jensen doesn’t say that. “Told you not to call me that.”

Jared, apparently, opts to ignore that. “Kinda want to fuck you on set one day.” He sounds thoughtful as he starts moving his hips, and Jensen feels the slow drag of his cock as it slides almost all the way out before slipping back into place. “Maybe keep you dressed up. Almost be like I’m fucking Dean, huh?”

Jensen tenses a little bit. Of all their routines, all their patterns, all the parts in the games they play- this is something new. 

“Think about it when we’re in character, sometimes.” A huff of laughter that Jensen feels against the back of his neck, makes him shiver. “How bad he’d want it. He’s probably a little slut just like you are, isn’t he?”

“Shut up.” He’s surprised by the sharpness of his own words, but doesn’t try to take them back. Not like Jared’s going to listen, anyways. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He’s moving faster, now, flesh slapping on flesh, but he doesn’t stop talking, whispering harshly into Jensen’s ear. “Doesn’t matter who’s doing it, does it? He’d take it from anyone who offered. Just desperate for someone to pay attention to him. To stay with him for a reason besides some fucking twisted sense of loyalty.”

“Shut _up_.” Jensen can’t really explain what the words are doing to him, the way they’re piercing so deep- feel like they’re tearing into him, into that secret little place where Dean lives inside him- but fuck, it _hurts_. Jared’s never done this before, and he doesn’t even have time to wonder what’s brought it up now. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“I can’t even decide who’s more pathetic between the two of you.” Jared ignores him completely, but shifts until he’s pressing Jensen down hard into the bed, making it hard to breathe, let alone talk. “Him with his fucking desperation for someone to love him, or you, when you’re so beyond caring how shallow it is, as long as someone pays attention to you. S’that why you cling to your tai chi bullshit? Need something to make you stand out?” He leans in, impossibly closer, and his lips are on Jensen’s ear as he hisses the next words. “Something to try to make you better than me?”

Jensen’s gasping for breath, fingers white-knuckled where they’re gripping the bed sheets, and fuck, he’s _crying._ There are tears in his eyes, and Jared’s going hard and fast now, and he’s close, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt this terrible in his entire life.

“Don’t even have anything to say for yourself, do you?” A snort, and Jared’s fingers find his wrists, wrapping around them tight. Jensen recognizes, somewhere distant, that it means he’s almost there, too. “Pathetic.”

Another couple sharp thrusts, and then Jared buries himself in deep, teeth sinking into the meat of Jensen’s shoulder as he reaches his climax. Jensen barely notices, not until there’s a hand wrapping around his cock, jacking him off hard and fast until he’s following shortly after with a cry he muffles in the crook of his elbow. 

Jared gives another few short, sharp thrusts, and Jensen doesn’t look up. Tries to catch his breath, but can’t quite manage it around the sobs that are trying to build in his chest.

He doesn’t understand, though. It’s never been like this before, no matter what Jared’s said to him, how demeaning this is. But there’s an ache inside him, now- deep and sharp and beating right alongside his heart. Dean’s always been untouchable, he thinks, but now- now Jared’s brought him into this, too. Dean can’t be his escape if he’s just as much of a pathetic slut as Jensen is.

Jared finally pulls out, but Jensen doesn’t notice much. Takes deep, shuddering breathes as he tries to get control of himself. Jared can’t see him like this. He won’t allow it. 

But then Jared’s catching his hair between his fingers, jerking his head up- “look at how good you look, all fucked-out and needy-” and he’s meeting his own eyes in the mirror, watery, tear tracks smeared across his cheeks, and he hates the way he can’t help but see Dean there, too.

Jensen doesn’t really notice the way that Jared’s lazy grin drops off his face.

“I have to go.” Jensen’s voice is too raw, but when he jerks his head to the side, Jared lets him go without a struggle. It should be surprising, but he can’t make himself care. “Got shit to do tonight.”

Jared doesn’t say anything until he’s already stumbled out of bed, until he’s halfway-dressed again- he’ll have to be Dean for the walk of shame, too, and does it even matter anymore?- but then he’s following, shoving his soft dick back in his pants and stumbling over his words a couple times. “Wait, Jensen, are you-?”

“I’m fine.” Jensen doesn’t let him finish, doesn’t bother buttoning up his shirt. He tries to be subtle about wiping at his cheeks, but the way Jared swallows audibly tells him he isn’t exactly successful. “See you tomorrow.”

He turns towards the door, doesn’t even want to look at Jared right now- can’t think about this, can’t run the risk that he’ll see Sam, instead, because he’s just sure he’ll be able to take that- but then Jared catches his wrist, holds him fast.

“Jensen, c’mon, just let me-”

But Jensen can’t. He can’t stand the way Jared’s voice sounds, almost lost, or the way the grip on his wrist is too goddamn close to gentle for his comfort. So he yanks himself away, turns to face Jared just for the sake of giving him an icy look. Tries not to let the tears fall, because he won’t let Jared have this. He _won’t_. 

He can try to take Dean away, but Jensen sure as hell won’t let him know that.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

It’s quiet, cold. Jared looks like he’s been slapped. 

Jensen turns to leave again, and he doesn’t meet any resistance this time.

The air’s cold outside of Jared’s trailer, and Jensen can’t help but wonder if he’ll be able to slip into Dean and pretend he’s Jared’s brother all over again tomorrow. It feels like something’s been damaged, something deep and unnameable, and he’s not sure that it can ever be fixed.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part to this as a fix-it. Promise.


End file.
